


love is patient, love is kind

by risquetendencies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Feels, But Oh The Pining, Canon compliant-ish, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff Happens Because They Care For Each Other, Friends to Lovers, Kisses Throughout The Years, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, Like We Know It's Love But Kenma Takes A While To Figure That Out, M/M, Mention Of Kuroo Having Family Issues, Pining, Slow Burn, Slow Feelings Realization From One End, They Get There In The End
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: Maybe it's not surprising that Kuroo was his first kiss, when they were kids and curious.But later, when they're older and there are multiple subsequent kisses that he can't neatly explain away, Kenma begins to wonder if how they are with each other goes deeper than being best friends. Problem is, there never seems to be a right time for him to sit down and think about it.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 29
Kudos: 99





	1. a kiss for curiosity's sake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this fic's existence on Kuroo's disgustingly sappy face during HQ season 4 episode 17.
> 
> Have mercy on my soul and typing fingers, you lovestruck cat. Though Kenma is the real villain here, just saying...
> 
> Anyway, the story will move chronologically through different moments in KuroKen's life, which is where the slow burn tag factors in. This chapter is them as kiddos and takes place between their 2nd and 3rd year of being friends.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You're playing games again?”

Startled, Kenma slammed his finger impulsively against the controller button. The misclick sent his character running right into a hazard, ending a life. Shock faded into irritation as they appeared at the respawn point. It was at least five minutes worth of solid gameplay away from where Kenma had previously been. Five whole minutes of retracing his steps through a complicated puzzle.

His bedroom door swung shut with a loud thump.

He glared, searching out the corner of his eye.

Kuroo came into focus. He flopped down at the foot of the bed, seeming disappointed, but not surprised to find Kenma playing. Ever since they had met, that was the status quo. Kuroo would've to be stupid to not expect him to spend his free time gaming.

“Oh, it’s that same one! You’re really still working on it? You’re normally faster at beating them,” Kuroo said, squinting across at the television.

“This one’s run time is longer,” Kenma muttered.

Golden eyes shifted, lingering on the intruder. His nosy best friend. Only friend. Kuroo had on the bright red socks he wore with his soccer cleats. He must have been playing with the kids from the next block over again. The socks stood out, a glaring contrast to the plain white house slippers Kuroo used when he came to visit.

Kenma’s gaze returned to the screen.

He wondered if Kuroo would like the maroon slippers his parents were planning on giving him at Christmas. It was about time that Kuroo had his own pair at their house. He was here enough to merit having some.

“Are you bored yet?”

“No,” Kenma said, moving his character back toward the puzzle area.

And he wasn’t.

Despite how long it was taking to conquer, _End Fantasia_ was engaging. The fantasy universe it was set in was one he felt like he could spend hours just walking around in. It was filled with European-style buildings and a mix of medieval and futuristic technology. The combat system was difficult to figure out. You could focus on direct attacks, but it benefitted you if you augmented fighting with spells. When the character’s health was low, they gained an even steeper power boost. While playing, he had to keep all those things under consideration and make a strategy to win.

It was tough but fun.

But the game was weighed down by too many cut scenes to develop the character and love interest. It didn’t matter to him if they ended up together. Defeating the villain, staying alive, and stopping the future of the world from changing was more important.

“That’s kind of cool,” Kuroo hummed, leaning his chin into a hand as he watched the game progress. The index finger of his other hand gestured at the screen. “I bet you can’t go by that guy with the horns. You probably have to find a way to sneak past him.”

Kenma blinked in surprise, keeping his fingers moving as he steered his character around the obstacles.

How did Kuroo guess that?

“Yeah.”

“How are you doing it then?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma ducked his head.

When Kuroo focused on him, it felt like he was under an intense spotlight. The resulting glow was too warm for him to survive unscathed. Them being friends didn’t make it any better when Kuroo took an interest in something he was doing enough to ask questions about it. Kuroo paying attention to him was more tolerable than other people doing the same, but it was still overwhelming. It was a lot easier when Kuroo just sat there and talked about what happened to him that day instead.

But Kuroo had a knack of turning the subject back to Kenma even when he didn’t want it to.

Exhaling, he willed the quiver in his stomach to disappear. He wasn’t sure why, but in times like these, his insides went rogue, rolling circles over and over again until he almost felt sick. Not in a gross way, but in a way that was hard to describe. He didn’t hate it entirely.

And he didn’t hate being asked things entirely, either.

“You have to um… follow a certain path. So the demon doesn’t get its eyes on you,” Kenma answered, voice low and halting. “If you watch, you can tell when it’s not looking somewhere it could spot you.”

"So you have to be smart about it."

Grudgingly, Kenma faced him when he answered.

"I guess."

Kuroo's golden brown eyes glimmered, a thoughtful look spreading across his face. Seconds later, it melted into a smile. Once more, Kenma's stomach reacted, the bottom dropping out. It had to be his nerves.

What came next didn't help.

"Well," Kuroo said. "You'll get it soon then. You're the smartest person I know."

The character on screen jolted forward, falling under the demon's gaze. Kenma heard the mournful sound effect the game played when another life was eaten up, and the ping of his avatar respawning yet another time. But it all sounded far away, the volume dampened as if his ears were filled with cotton. He didn't know what to say back that wouldn't be weird. Hearing the compliment made him feel strange. Maybe a little happy, but it was too positive to compute in his brain.

So he settled for not accepting it.

"You just want me to toss for you again tonight."

Kuroo laughed, the noise light and bubbly as it left his mouth, almost a giggle. The spotlight Kenma was under grew warmer. His stomach clenched as his plan backfired. In retrospect, it wasn't the best plan to remind Kuroo that there was daylight left to play volleyball outside.

"Yep! But that can wait until you finish the level."

**. . . . .**

"Are those two characters dating?"

Kenma wrinkled his nose, attention drifting from the cut scene as he pondered the question. Beside him, Kuroo was stretched out on his back, arms up as he lofted a volleyball overhead, throwing it up and hitting it back into the air when it came down. Rinse and repeat. Kenma didn't understand how he was able to see enough of the screen to ask. They were laying opposite of each other, Kuroo's head near his feet.

"I don't think they have time for dates," he said. "They're trying not to get killed."

Over his shoulder, he heard Kuroo hum. There was a soft _thwap_ as the volleyball met with hands for the hundredth time that hour.

"But they're in love with each other, right? It seems pretty obvious."

He wrinkled his nose harder in confusion.

"Why is it obvious?"

A quieter impact noise sounded, and then the bed creaked as Kuroo swung his body around to match his lying position. Their shoulders brushed, bumping together as Kuroo settled in. Kenma spared him a glance, but then returned to watching the cut scene. It was a lengthy one, and he felt impatient, fingers twitching around his controller handle as he waited for it to end.

Kuroo leaned his chin on the ball.

He truly was becoming a volleyball idiot. It was getting rarer for Kuroo to be without one these days, or for him to not try to drag him outside to practice blocks and spikes. Kuroo probably kept a ball on hand in case he got a chance to ask him to play. The so-called minor internal bleeding on Kenma's arms had stopped appearing as much, like Kuroo had said it would when his skin got used to it.

Kenma stifled a sigh.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to be used to any of that.

"For one thing, they're always together," Kuroo began, staring off into space as he listed off reasons. "They take care of each other in the clips I've seen, more than they do with the other characters in their squad. And they're always looking at each other. It's gotta be love." 

The characters were written as romantic. Kenma knew that. He could tell from some of the same clues Kuroo was giving, plus a few more. It was inevitable that by the end of the game, the two would end up together. As much as he didn't care if they did, he knew they would. 

But for some reason, hearing Kuroo's take on it made him feel weird.

Was all of that stuff people in love did?

Because, if they hadn't been talking about the plot, or anything love-related, Kenma might have said that it sounded like having a best friend.

**. . . . .**

He was starving.

Kenma headed downstairs, taking his time. His limbs felt sluggish, and once he got a snack in his system, he'd go to bed. Maybe he'd skip waking up at 2AM tonight in favor of more sleep. The group project at school was sucking his soul dry between the assignment and having to work with his classmates. None of them liked him. They all saw him as a nuisance, someone who didn't have anything to contribute. An opinion that wasn't helped when he had trouble speaking up to give his ideas. 

They weren't even in middle school yet. Wasn't it too early for presentations?

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he heard his mother's voice, loud enough to carry across the entryway to where Kenma stood. He ducked behind the wall, shielding himself from view.

"I'm so glad you called me, Tetsu-kun! You always can, you know."

Kuroo was here?

Blinking, he listened harder to their conversation.

"I-I wasn't sure," Kuroo's voice said shakily. "Uh, but thanks for letting me come over, Auntie. Is Kenma awake?"

Guilt sliced through him, and Kenma shrank back further into his hiding spot. As he stood there eavesdropping, his stomach turned over, worry flooding through his veins. It was only three sentences, but that was enough for him to know something was wrong. Kuroo never sounded like that. At least, he hadn't for a while. Kuroo had grown braver with most things in life, less anxious. It was weird to hear him sound uncertain, a blast from the past that Kenma instantly decided he disliked.

It felt wrong.

"He might be. You're welcome to head up and see."

The silence that emanated after his mother finished speaking painted a picture for Kenma. It was easy to imagine Kuroo staring at the ground, lips pursed together as he tried to gather his thoughts. Something was bothering him enough to come over late at night. If Kenma had to guess, the problem had started at Kuroo's house.

He figured it from experience, from the stories he'd been told and the screaming he'd occasionally heard. Kuroo's parents weren't together, his grandparents were strict, and his dad worked long hours. Kuroo's relationship with his family was tense to say the least.

Most of the time, they ignored him. When they didn't do that, the alternative wasn't any better.

"Okay. Um, thank you."

All too late, Kenma realized he was stuck. There was no way he could get back upstairs quick without it being obvious that he had been close enough to hear their exchange. Kuroo was walking over, which meant he only had seconds before-

A dark head rounded the corner, then came to a screeching halt. Kuroo's face paled as he caught sight of Kenma, making his red-rimmed eyes stand out that much more.

Suddenly, violently, Kenma wanted to throw up.

Wrong was an understatement.

He never wanted to see his best friend look like this ever again. It wasn't Kuroo. It wasn't how he should look.

He had to do something.

Before he could start to formulate any ideas, his mother walked into view. She swapped the concerned expression on her face for a bright, forced smile. Kenma looked at her, feeling the nausea intensify. If his mom was worried too, how bad were things? What had Kuroo told her on the phone before he came over? She was sensitive and could act overprotective, but not to a point where she'd look that troubled if Kuroo was visiting for some minor reason.

Her being unsettled didn't change what Kenma felt like doing, though.

Having no plan was fine. He could improvise. 

Once they were alone, he could talk to Kuroo and find out what the issue was. If nothing else, he could try to help him feel better about it.

"Kenma, sweetie! You're up! Tetsu-kun's gonna spend the night with us, okay? I'll go and get the guest futon-"

Reaching down a stair, Kenma closed his fingers around Kuroo's.

"We can just share my bed," he brushed her off. Refocusing his attention, Kenma looked at his friend. "We're going upstairs. Okay?"

Kuroo blinked back at him a few times. But then he gave a weak, timid nod.

Kenma didn't hesitate. Pulling Kuroo along with his hand, he dragged them both up the stairs, faster than he'd walked down. For some reason, he wanted to rush. As if, somehow, moving faster would decrease the amount of time until Kuroo was happy again. It didn't work like that. But Kenma couldn't slow down. He couldn't fight the rising tide of his need to comfort him.

When they reached his room, he led Kuroo over to the bed and used his free hand to peel back the blankets.

"Get in."

Thankfully, there were no objections. Letting go of their linked fingers, Kuroo crawled into the vacant space. His eyes were blank, and his lips were weighed down with a frown. Kuroo reclined himself back against the pillows, propped into a sitting position. Once he was stationary, Kenma brought the blankets back up to cover him. Frowning too, his hand lingered on the hem of the sky blue fabric, hovering over where Kuroo's hand now rested underneath.

Was it weird to want to stand there and hold it a little longer?

It wasn't like he could cheer Kuroo up that way.

He'd have to find a different method.

All thoughts of fatigue or hunger left him as Kenma turned and walked over to his game system, flicking the power button back on. Sleep wasn't a priority. Right now, Kenma sensed a distraction was needed. Kuroo seemed unlikely to participate, so maybe playing through some more of his game and letting Kuroo watch would be enough of one to work. If conversation happened, he'd do his best to respond.

Kenma was never sure what to say when Kuroo fought with his family.

Half of him felt angry, and the other half was scared that he'd say something wrong. Offend Kuroo somehow, or worse, make him feel like the things his family said were true. That was the last thing Kenma wanted, a landmine he could never forgive himself for detonating. So most of the time, he chose silence, or safe, abbreviated answers.

The game's title page bloomed into existence, and the theme song played, a light, pop ballad that contrasted the dread swirling in Kenma's stomach.

He ignored it, clicking through to his last save point.

"I'm sorry."

Kenma's brows drew together, the flat cast of his lips tightening.

"Don't, Kuro," he said, cutting through the apology. On autopilot, he moved his game avatar through the map, scouting out the next area before he decided how to tackle it. Judging by the way the action scenes had ramped up, it felt like he was close to conquering the main storyline. "My parents said it's fine if you come over sometimes. Like this."

His mouth twitched.

"Or whenever you need to come over."

A stream of sniffles echoed from behind him. Kenma's hands tightened around the controller, trying to wring out his building unease on something tangible.

He hated this. He hated not knowing how to help.

There probably wasn't anything he could do. They were kids. It wasn't like Kuroo could leave his house and live on his own. He could come over to their house as much as he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that sometimes, Kuroo had to go home. There was no way to protect his friend forever. Kenma had to settle for comforting him when he could. It didn't feel like enough.

Maybe one day, when they were older, things could be different. For now, this was the limit.

Before he could think better of the impulse, Kenma spoke again.

"What happened?"

He wasn't usually so direct in asking.

Swallowing down his nerves, Kenma brought up the game's settings menu, putting it on pause with a sharp, metallic _tong_. He turned his body, and curled both knees up toward his chest, peering over the top of them.

Beneath the thick layer of blankets, Kuroo appeared smaller than he knew that he was. Based on the latest growth spurt, Kenma figured Kuroo was going to be taller than him when they were done developing. Much taller. It was kind of annoying to have to stare upward at him now, but the new lankiness to his build also suited Kuroo somehow.

Kuroo leaned forward, hands resting on top of the comforter. He tapped his fingers against the material in an erratic, anxious rhythm.

"My dad's old university sent him a letter. My grandmother opened it," Kuroo explained, eyes fluttering wetly and darting around the darkened room while he spoke. "She's mad he never got to finish school. Because he had me. I know he wishes he could have, too."

Kenma watched Kuroo's fingers tap slower, each beat soft until they stopped. Tears slopped out, breaking free to slide down his face.

"She said I need to get better grades. Because I have to be the one who finishes university. But I'm not in high school. I'm not even in middle school yet!"

All at once, Kuroo sounded stressed, frustrated, and scared. His voice cracked as he capped off the last sentence, bleeding into a quiet sob. Bending in half, Kuroo hung his head, putting both hands on either side of it, cupping his face tight. It was like a dam had broken, and everything was pouring out now. What little Kenma could see of his face was red and splotchy. More tears emerged, sluicing between the gaps of Kuroo's fingers. Something as cold as ice overtook Kenma as he watched. All the blood in his veins froze.

He didn't know what to say.

Even if he tried, Kenma could never understand the things Kuroo's family said to him.

They didn't know Kuroo like he did. They didn't see how smart and hard-working Kuroo was, how he was almost too good at keeping busy, at looking after others in addition to taking care of himself. If anyone had the potential to do great things, it was him. Pressuring him was unnecessary. And unfair. Kuroo wasn't his father, and he didn't have to do what his father never did. It wasn't his fault for being born, or for his mother abandoning him. Those were his parents' choices, not his.

He didn't have to make anything right.

Unease coiled in Kenma's stomach, bringing nausea bubbling back to the surface. He forced himself to breathe through it.

It was his turn to be the strong one. He couldn't let Kuroo down.

Tugged along by an invisible string, Kenma launched himself higher on the bed. He stumbled, slamming forward into Kuroo's hunched over body. They both winced at the impact, but Kuroo lifted his head, staring at him with surprised eyes. He said nothing, so Kenma took that as an opening to slide both of his arms around Kuroo. Hugging on tightly, he tried to ignore the quiver building in his stomach. Maybe it was hunger pains, maybe it was his nerves. Whatever it was, the sensation gained steam as they clung to each other until it felt like he was falling.

Kenma leaned his head against Kuroo's shoulder, hiding his face in his t-shirt.

He felt embarrassed, doing this, but if it made his friend feel better, it was worth the effort. In any case, it seemed to have stopped him crying, because Kuroo felt still under Kenma's hands, no longer shaking with sobs or sniffles. Kuroo was quieter, too, apart from the intense, but slowing cadence of his breathing.

Minutes ticked by. How many, Kenma wasn't sure. He was too hyper fixated on what was in front of him to notice.

But at some point, he snapped out of the trance.

"Um..." he said, turning his head just enough so the words weren't muffled. He avoided uncovering the rest. "Do you want to watch me beat the game? I think it'll be done soon."

"Yeah."

**. . . . .**

Kuroo's expression had changed again.

When they'd laid down at the foot of the bed, both of them on their stomachs, Kuroo had looked worn out, face still a little red. After about thirty minutes of gameplay, the color had receded, and he'd started to look more normal as he watched Kenma run through puzzles and combat sections. He'd leaned his chin on his hand, watching mindlessly.

It was the opposite now.

Peering at Kuroo from the corner of his eye, Kenma snuck a glance before returning to the game on screen. As he'd thought, the end of the story had been close, and he'd defeated the final boss battle to save the world.

Now there was a cut scene playing, summing up what happened to the characters after they healed from the decisive fight. It had begun with some of the minor squad members, and where they went after the team parted ways. What their new goals were, and stuff like that. But the scene was going in a different direction now. The main character and his love interest were on screen.

They stood together under a deep midnight sky that glittered with a thousand stars. Light from the moon bathed everything in a white, soft glow. The characters leaned against the stone wall of the balcony on the side of their airship, talking and occasionally lapsing into comfortable silence. Every now and then, Kenma's avatar stared over at the love interest, as if building up his courage toward her. Kenma guessed this was where the romantic subplot was going to come to a head.

Which made him want to sigh, but the game was basically over. He could deal with it while the satisfaction from his win lingered.

Kuroo looked absorbed. That was the best word for it. His golden brown eyes were sharp with focus, and his lips hung open as he watched the characters interact. He wasn't moving a muscle. It was kind of weird. He hadn't cared this much when Kenma had knocked out the sorceress villain earlier. Then again, they liked different things. Kenma couldn't claim to always understand what Kuroo was drawn to.

On screen, the main character made his move. Surging closer to the girl, he cupped her face in his hands and brought it closer. Their lips met.

Kenma scrunched his nose.

He wasn't surprised, but it did nothing for him. Maybe it was because they were animations on a screen, or maybe he was too young to get why it was thrilling. He had never had a crush, but he didn't think it was weird at his age not to have had one. Either way, the scene's conclusion felt neutral. He watched it stoically as the characters embraced and the music swelled with heartfelt piano notes. The aerial camera angle panned out until at last, the sky darkened into a black screen flashing the words he was waiting for.

 _Game Over_.

They were written in an elegant, golden font that was the complete opposite of other games' end screens when you lost. It might not be possible to lose this one. He'd racked up countless character deaths throughout playing it, and never once had the game shut him out for good.

Kenma looked to the side.

Next to him, Kuroo's gape was wider than before. His eyes shone with intense interest. After the end screen flickered and died away, Kuroo shut his mouth, swallowing hard enough that Kenma could see the reverberation of his throat tightening.

Kenma had seen him wear that face before. It had happened the first time Kuroo got him to play volleyball. The first time Kenma came up with a strategy that worked for them.

In a way, he felt relieved. But relief cracked at the strong facade Kenma had been maintaining, letting his fatigue sweep in and overtake him. He didn't think he had to worry about Kuroo tonight anymore. Maybe it was safe to go to sleep now. Or maybe he was just tired in anticipation of whatever followed Kuroo looking like that. In past practice, it meant him getting conned into doing something that required too much effort.

Yeah, his brain was probably trained to distrust Kuroo's eager expression.

"What?" Kenma asked reluctantly.

"Have you ever wondered what kissing is like?"

For the second time in the past few minutes, Kenma scrunched his nose.

"No."

Kuroo's hands shifted, cupping his own face in between them. He stared upward and off into thin air, looking thoughtful.

"I know people in love do it, like your mom and dad. But sometimes people don't love each other, they just do it because it's nice. Or they're not in love yet, but they might be getting there," he rambled, voice pitching high with bubbling enthusiasm. "I wonder if there's other reasons, too, but I wish I knew why they wanted to. It's kind of a weird thing to want to do."

Kissing was weird, but his parents did it often. Sometimes on purpose to gross Kenma out.

But part of him was glad they were happy with each other. Not everyone was, even if they got married. Or if they didn't get married, like Kuroo's parents hadn't.

There were no guarantees in love. He knew that much.

What was guaranteed though, was that Kuroo wouldn't drop this subject unless he intervened somehow. Kenma could think of just one way to shut him up. It was late, and now that they were both calmed down, he was beyond ready to sleep. Kuroo chattering like he was now was an obstacle to that goal. He'd have to do it, even if the idea he'd thought of was strange.

Kenma's stomach fluttered. He set his game controller down, and sat up, leaning over toward his best friend.

"Try it on me," he said quietly. "I'm not a girl, but guys can kiss too."

He wasn't sure, but it didn't seem wrong.

Kuroo's head jerked up. He glanced toward Kenma with wide, shocked eyes, like he couldn't believe what he was being asked to do.

"I-I can't do that, Kenma!" he protested. "You should save your first kiss for someone special!"

Color flooded Kuroo's face, red blooming against the tan canvas of his skin and spreading across it in every direction. He trembled, slowly sitting up on the bed's edge and curling inward, as if his embarrassment was a crushing weight making him fold.

Kenma stared. He felt unmoved.

"I don't care who gets my first kiss. Who does it isn't a big deal. It might as well be you, Kuro."

The sooner they figured this out, the sooner he'd get to sleep.

Kuroo side-eyed him shiftily for a fleeting second, then looked back at the ground. After yet another extended pause, he found his voice again. Unlike before, it was little more than a whisper.

"Fine. We can, but would you close your eyes? It kinda feels weird to look. I'll close mine too."

The bottom of Kenma's stomach dropped out again. He nodded.

He didn't know why he felt anxious. This was just something dumb that they were trying out, that he was going along with to make Kuroo shut up.

Shutting his eyes, he waited.

Eventually, the bed creaked under Kuroo's shifting weight. He felt him scoot closer. Kenma wondered if he had really shut his eyes too. How was he supposed to know where to go if he didn't look? Had Kuroo even thought about that part?

A light pressure touched against his forehead. Kenma's face screwed up in surprise. But then it evaporated.

He blinked his eyes open.

That was a different kiss than the one they'd watched in the game.

"Okay, uh, um... good night, Kenma!"

Before he could form a response, Kuroo was scrambling away, diving back toward the head of the bed and under the covers. Probably embarrassed that he'd done something so bold. Or that he'd stolen Kenma's first kiss, even if it wasn't on the lips. Even though Kenma didn't care that he had taken it. It wasn't like there was a limited number of kisses he could receive in his lifetime.

Kenma frowned.

As he watched the Kuroo-shaped lump wriggle beneath the blankets, he felt a tingle on his skin where they'd connected.

The sensation was pleasant, but he still didn't understand why older people liked to kiss so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Kenma, I would invite you to research what a crush is and spare us all.
> 
> I'd like to remind the audience that some of you [enabled](https://twitter.com/risquetendency/status/1320554081425879040) this fic into existence. So you can share credit for the suffering ahead of us. Maybe 1/3 credit for y'all, 1/3 Kuroo's disgusting face when he looks at Kenma, and 1/3 my brain.
> 
> Anyway, the game (mostly final cutscene), is based off _Final Fantasy_. When I was a kid, I had a teacher who showed us a music video set to clips from _Final Fantasy VIII_. It was one of my first experiences with animation / games and thinking about it makes me really nostalgic so it was perfect for kid!KuroKen antics. 
> 
> If you want, come cry on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/risquetendency) with me. Thank you to all my moots who have been incredibly sweet and encouraging when I've mentioned this project <3333


	2. a kiss of devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we begin to descend into the pining. This chapter features late middle-school kurokens as they navigate plans for the future.

Kenma harbored regrets. Most of them traced back to a single person.

He regretted asking an eight-year-old Kuroo if there was something else he wanted to play other than _Virtua Fighter_. Believing Kuroo when he'd said that setters didn't have to move around the court much. That had been a bold lie, even for Kuroo, and Kenma kicked himself for not wising up sooner. They had been playing volleyball together for seven years now. 

The amount of effort volleyball took was draining. Wrong or not, he stuggled through for his friend, who couldn't do it alone. Together, they were pretty strong, and that could be interesting, sometimes.

He didn't see himself continuing the sport forever. High school was probably his limit.

Until then, he'd try to keep going.

Regret number one at the moment was feeling sympathetic enough toward Kuroo to pretend he needed tutoring. There were some subjects he wasn't amazing at, but Kenma managed to get decent grades. Tutoring wasn't something he would seek out otherwise. 

He had a nasty feeling that he would be enduring plenty of extra lessons without asking in the future.

Shoulders slouched, he walked into the living room and contemplated his poor life choices. The television was on, and his father was sitting down reading. Dad only turned on shows for background noise. Kenma doubted he was giving any attention to what was playing. He didn't feel like investing his energy in the drama either. In five minutes Kuroo would be on his case to stop taking a break and return to studying. After eating a healthy snack that Kuroo had so generously prepared for him. That wasn't long enough to catch up with the plot of the episode.

"Working hard, Kenma?"

He tried not to grimace, but when he was fed up, his face tended to display that even if he attempted to filter it.

His father laughed.

"Your grades weren't bad last time. What changed that you asked Tetsurou-kun to help?"

Kenma sat down at the other end of the couch, bunching his legs up to his chest. He shot a quick glance toward the kitchen door. Conversation carried through from where Kuroo and his mother were chopping vegetables together. But their words were indecipherable, and neither of them were close enough to hear him talking. The coast was clear.

"Kuro's stressed."

"So you asked him to put more on his plate by tutoring you? I'm not sure that makes sense."

Leaning forward, Kenma rested his chin against his legs.

"He's desperate for an excuse to get out of his house. Extra practice at the school gym. Coming over to make sure I'm not gaming too late. He volunteered to clean up the park on Sunday. I don't want him to burn out. If he's doing something he likes, he won't get tired."

It made perfect sense to him.

Isolate the source of Kuroo's stress. Create an alternative for Kuroo to funnel his energy into that gave him an escape from home and a diversion that wouldn't exhaust him. Even Kuroo's grandparents couldn't say what he was doing was a waste of time. Being a tutor, even for one person, was resume fodder down the road. It was worthwhile to universities and future employers. 

"Ah, I get it. Tetsurou-kun does love the sciences."

Kenma nodded.

"Yeah."

A second later, his lips twitched into a frown. Kenma sighed as regret began to push back up to the surface, souring his mood.

"He loves it. I don't. I shouldn't have given him a free pass, because now he's never going to shut up."

At the other end of the couch, Dad smiled, folding the page he was on and closing the novel. He set it on his lap, looking thoughtful. Kenma waited and braced himself. He knew from experience that he wasn't going to like whatever was about to be said. For better or for worse, his father was skilled at reading people. The advice he gave was hard to swallow because it was annoying how accurate it usually was.

"You're a good friend to him. I'm sure if he knew everything you're telling me, he'd appreciate it."

There was a pause.

"Helping him out is great. But have you thought about telling Tetsurou-kun you're worried? I think that would make him realize he's not coping well by just staying busy. It's hard to avoid a problem forever."

A pit opened low in Kenma's stomach, anxiety surging to fill the empty space. As he'd expected, he didn't want to hear that advice.

Kuroo's family issues weren't his problem, not really. But they also were, because the two of them were friends.

Through the years, he had stood on the sidelines and helped in minor ways. Distracting Kuroo, letting him come over, bringing up about a topic Kuroo was interested in that he could ramble about. None of that felt like enough to Kenma, but what else was there? Telling Kuroo he needed to change the way he dealt with the pressure put on him? That was rich. As if saying something stern, with no plan to back it up was going to solve anything, just because _he_ said it to Kuroo.

If it was that easy, he would have made the speech. Because more than hating extra practice or unprompted lectures on covalent bonds, he hated seeing Kuroo struggle. 

Kenma bit his lip.

He'd already decided that he was going to find a solution. Some way to show Kuroo the person he was, and the things his family said he was were not equivalent. And that there was nothing wrong with following his own dreams. The problem was, Kenma still hadn't figured out how he was going to accomplish any of that. Until he had a plan, he didn't want to broach the subject too deeply.

For now, he'd maintain the status quo. He'd be there if Kuroo wanted someone to be with him so he wasn't alone.

That was what he was good for, even if it wasn't worth much in the end.

"Don't tell Kuro I'm doing this stuff for him."

His father shook his head.

"I won't. But, you know, Kenma, it's normal to want to help your friends. Or someone you care deeply for."

Was it?

Kenma shut his eyes, feeling drained.

He couldn't rest yet, not that he could relax when there was this weird tension building in his chest as he considered what he wanted to do. What to prioritize saying. Kuroo was heading to high school next year. He still hadn't committed to a specific one. When they'd talked about it before, Kuroo had hesitated. All Kenma could think was that he had an option in mind, one he wasn't sure he could choose.

Maybe he needed to bring it up again, so together they could figure it out. Kuroo's personality was flawed in that way. He tried to shoulder things too much, bottle them up so he could keep appearing reliable to other people from the outside.

Kenma gripped the fabric of his jeans, pinching the rough material between his fingertips. The coarseness of it was soothing somehow.

The television screen brightened, and the glare from a commercial blasted multicolored light against his eyelids. Kenma blinked, frowning at the disturbance briefly before shutting his eyes once more. If he didn't have studying to do and healthy snacks to consume, he would have wanted to sleep. In either universe, though, he wouldn't have managed to drift off.

His head was full. Teeming with data, emotions, and worry. Everything related back to one person, someone who wasn't even him. 

Was that really normal? 

**. . . . .**

"I'll stay thirty minutes."

"Kenma, you do care!" Kuroo chirped. His voice was bubbly, but the demonic smirk he sported made Kenma reconsider his generosity. The initial flag, cheering Kuroo up, had been satisfied, but he felt unsatisfied with the reality of how he'd reached that checkpoint.

Why did he have to be friends with someone who was so high-maintenance?

If he had written down his regrets as they occurred, the list would have been a mile long now. There were plenty of exhausting drills Kuroo could make him do during the additional practice Kenma had agreed to. His legs, his lungs, and his will to live were doomed. 

"Not about volleyball," he cut in bluntly.

Kuroo rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I've had my suspicions," he teased, shoving a ball into Kenma's arms hard enough to make him stumble from the force of impact. Kenma stabilized himself and glared. "Though I can't imagine why you'd think that's not an excellent source of motivation." 

Stepping closer, Kuroo waggled his fingers in mid-air.

"Go on, let the hate flow through you. Channel that negativity into giving me a higher toss."

Kenma's glare maintained its presence.

Kuroo snickered.

"Hey, even if you just launch it at my head, that's something."

"I don't have to be here," Kenma replied curtly. "Keep talking like that, and I might do it."

The only reason he was bothering stood in front of him, making a compelling case for why that act of kindness was a wasted one. 

Kenma's lips curled into a frown.

There was more on his mind than being tired and wanting to go home. For the past few days, he had been trying to drop hints to Kuroo that he'd decided he was quitting volleyball after high school. It was something that didn't feel like a big deal to Kenma, but he knew it would be to him. 

So far, Kuroo had cheated him out of every opportunity to be honest.

No.

He had just run away from the chances when they came.

Today, Kenma had reached a conclusion. Guilt was part of what he felt, but also fear.

He wasn't the sort of person who could do something they disliked. Volleyball was fine. For now. But he knew it wasn't his forever, and he also knew Kuroo. Breaking the news to him early was better, because it gave him time to process. And the foresight to spend their remaining time on the team however sentimentally Kuroo wanted. Springing bad news on Kuroo was dangerous. His reactions were loud and effusive. 

Maybe he'd try to tone it down, but Kenma would know.

He already knew how Kuroo would take this news.

But if he was being honest with himself, he knew that wasn't why he was afraid.

He was worried that if they didn't have the sport to link them together, there would be no reason for them to stay friends.

Kuroo hummed, breaking his concentration.

"Yeah, but if you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't. I know that."

Kenma's eyes shifted away. His frown deepened.

That was true, but he wondered how much Kuroo realized overall. Observation was a skill people attributed to him more often, but Kuroo wasn't a slouch at it. If he hadn't been good at reading people, at reading _him_ , they wouldn't be close.

It wasn't for nothing that he didn't have other friends. He wasn't good at interacting with people, and most of the time, Kenma didn't bother. Figuring out what words to say, or how to act was a puzzle that irritated him, that made his skin crawl from the randomness, the lack of certainty of if he was doing it right. If he messed up, he feared the potential judgement. He'd rather be left alone than muddle through.

Kuroo was the only person he didn't feel the need to filter with. Kenma barely thought about the things he did or said when it was him. 

**. . . . .**

Kenma sprawled out against the gym wall, heaving harsh breaths. Stamina wasn't his strong point, never had been. Right now, his lungs ached, a jagged pain shooting through both sides of his chest. It made him want to pass out to avoid feeling it. Sweat matted his hair, plastering it to his face in messy clumps. A little of the sweat had dripped into his eyes. They stung.

As he sat on the glossy orange floor, he felt himself zone out, mind drifting into emptiness as the rest of him tried to recover from the exertion.

He hated running. He hated jumping so much. It hadn't gotten easier over time. 

"Here, have a drink."

A bottle was shoved into the space in front of him. Kenma grabbed it, pulling off the cap and chugging. The water was cold, and it made him cough, sputtering droplets and wincing at the feel of what little of it remained sliding down his throat. The bland taste did nothing to improve the experience.

Several firm pats were delivered to the center of his back, knocking everything where it needed to go. Kenma exhaled in relief.

"Water," he muttered when he could speak.

"It's healthier than what you'd get from the vending machine. Your body needs it. Humans are made up of at least 60% water!" Kuroo said. "I would've considered a sports drink for the electrolytes, but they didn't have the flavor you like."

Golden eyes slid to the side, appraising him.

There was a small smile playing on Kuroo's lips. Kenma wondered what was more amusing to him. Sharing a random biology fact, getting the chance to poke at his poor food choices, or, maybe, Kuroo was laughing on the inside about what just happened. Lately, more and more of Kuroo's laughter had been like that - unvoiced, but visible on his face, lips curled in an almost fond expression as he thought about whatever he was reacting to. It happened a lot when they were alone together.

Something wriggled in Kenma's stomach, turning over restlessly.

He wasn't sure what he preferred.

The silent laughter or the obnoxious cackle Kuroo made when he voiced his mirth aloud. Though the noises were jarring, he kind of liked that Kuroo felt fine letting it out. That he didn't try to downplay it or worry about what anyone who heard it thought.

There was a bump to his shoulder.

"Hey, so I've decided on a high school," Kuroo began. "My grandparents won't be happy, but I'm going to Nekoma."

Kenma blinked.

He didn't remember that name coming up in their prior discussions.

Maybe it was the one Kuroo had been hesitant to voice.

"Why would they be mad about it?"

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the dark strands as he measured his words.

"I guess it's too urban, or something? Grandmother has a friend of a friend who had some run-in with delinquents from there. She wants me to go to a better school, even though I'd need a scholarship." He huffed out a sigh, and dropped the hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Doesn't matter. The deadlines for those applications are past. I made sure to drag my feet."

"Too urban?" Kenma raised an eyebrow. "We live in Tokyo."

"She lives in her own world."

He frowned. It wasn't like he could disagree with that statement. Out of Kuroo's family, his grandmother was the most stubborn. There was a reason Kenma preferred not to go over to their house, and it had a lot to do with her judgemental stare. He knew what she was thinking when she looked at him. Too offbeat, too sharp-tongued when he wasn't silent, going nowhere special in life. An improper friend for the type of person she wanted her grandson to grow into.

Most of the time, Kenma ignored it. Didn't give it any acknowledgement in his head. Out of spite, because he realized her opinion was warped. 

Every now and then though, he wondered.

Was she right?

He had no driving purpose when it came to the future. There were things Kenma knew he didn't want, but little that he knew he did want. His desires were amorphous, still waiting to be worked into actual plans. It was early enough that he wasn't worried about the timeline.

But he wondered if him being that way would prove a detriment when Kuroo, whether through his family's wishes or his own efforts, found success. Were they too unevenly matched to make sense as friends?

"Do you remember the first time we went to a training camp? As kids, not now. The guy who ran it is a coach for Nekoma. He'll probably retire in a few years, so I want to go there and learn from him while I can."

Memories surged to the front of his head, of a younger Kuroo asking him if he was free on the weekend. If he would go somewhere with him. Because he didn't like new places, at least when he had to go to them on his own. Kuroo had looked embarrassed to admit that fact, but he'd also quivered with anticipation up until he'd gotten a 'yes' answer.

It was hard to forget that day when Kenma had been embarrassed too.

Kuroo had called him smart again, seconds before asking him to go to the camp. His brain had been recovering.

"The one you were scared to go to by yourself?"

Kuroo glared at him, eyes narrowing.

"Okay, wow. I might have been a little unsure. It was a new place. But thankfully, I had a supportive friend to tag along with me-"

Kenma snorted.

"Yeah, I remember us going."

Unconsciously, his lips curled into a smile. He remembered it clearly, like it had happened yesterday.

Them standing in the doorway of the gym, watching the other kids spiking over the net. Kenma had gotten caught up in their excitement, but had found himself hanging around the edge of the court, observing more than wanting to play. Kuroo had been the opposite. If Kenma had tried to call out to him, Kuroo probably wouldn't have heard him. He had been absorbed, diving headfirst into joining the practice. Receiving spikes from other kids, and trying to loft a ball over the net too. 

Once that net had been lowered, thanks to a suggestion from Coach Nekomata, there had been nothing to stop Kuroo.

Now, Kuroo wanted to learn more from the old man.

Kenma wondered what changes that would inspire. Back when they were kids, he had thought, watching Kuroo's awestruck expression when he swung his arm back to spike, that it was formative. And because of that day or not, Kuroo had grown out of the shell he'd lived in as a child. He didn't try to hide his enthusiasm anymore, about anything. 

Even when he went too far and became a nuisance, Kenma wouldn't have had it any other way.

Free was how Kuroo should be.

"Are you nervous about what your family will say?"

"Hmm, not really."

Kenma's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. That was new. And unconvincing in some respects. 

"I think I'm going to take a page out of your book. Only do the things I want to do. Within reason!" Kuroo said, voice pitching high. Because he was actually nervous. "I'd hate to look back when I'm older and realize I never went after anything that I wanted. Life's too short."

It sounded good, but he wondered what that meant. Kenma hummed thoughtfully.

"Do you want to go pro?" 

It was a logical assumption. Kenma was surprised it had taken him so long to ask Kuroo, given that he'd wondered about it a few times. Volleyball took up a significant portion of Kuroo's time and attention span. Maybe he wanted to take that passion and make it a career. Or maybe it was one of those hobbies that grew stale if it stopped being a hobby. 

Kuroo shrugged.

"While that'd be cool and all, I can't not be realistic. Even if I trained my butt off, I don't have raw talent, and I don't want to wreck my body. If I got signed somehow, I'd have to think about what came next. It's not a job you can do forever."

That was pretty realistic, Kenma had to concede.

Still, Kuroo didn't seem upset about talking himself out of that option. Which likely meant he'd thought of some other dream to chase in its place.

"Then what is something you can see yourself doing forever?" 

Kenma's pulse sped up.

They hadn't ever gone this far, discussing what they wanted out of the future. But if he didn't ask, he'd never find out what Kuroo was thinking. Or where he planned to go. If that was somewhere they could walk side by side to.

Not that it mattered.

If it was Kuroo's dream, he wouldn't hold him back from the pursuit.

"I've been thinking I could do something related. I think it'd be nice to be involved with the league. Well, the players. I'd like to help connect them together, and play a supporting role. An agent or something, maybe. Be on the ground floor to see them as they make it big."

His stomach flipped over.

This was new information. A possibility he hadn't heard before. While it didn't surprise him that Kuroo was interested in sticking with volleyball in some way, what he was talking about sent a punch of awe through Kenma's gut. 

More than that, though, it felt right.

"Seems like that would suit you," he said before his brain finished processing the idea. "You're good at building people up."

Beside him, Kuroo blinked. 

"Is that a compliment?" he asked, voice shaky with disbelief. "Because it sounds like a compliment. And that's weird from you."

Kenma frowned.

"Am I not allowed to say anything positive?" he asked, staring determinedly back.

It was obvious to him what they were discussing was important to Kuroo. He was taking it serious. Was he supposed to brush it off?

"No. It's just... you always," Kuroo began, stumbling over his answer. "You keep me grounded. When I say something ridiculous, I can expect that you'll let me know. Harshly."

He shot Kenma a grimace, but it soon faded.

"But like, it's also kind of helpful. Because sometimes I get carried away, dreaming about things that aren't possible."

"There's nothing wrong with having a dream." Kenma's eyes flickered, moving toward the opposite wall of the gym. He wondered who he was trying to convince more, Kuroo, or himself. "If there's nothing to look forward to, life stops being interesting."

When he returned his gaze to Kuroo, there was a blush tinting his cheeks, darker than after they'd ran laps. His lips were sealed, thinking hard about something. Kenma watched him for a few moments out of the corner of his eyes, wondering if what he'd said was really encouraging. Kuroo seemed to think so. If so, he guessed that was fine. Kuroo going for what he wanted in the future was the outcome he wanted too.

It might have been his imagination, but when the silence was broken again, it felt like Kuroo was sitting closer to him.

"Enough about me. What are the illustrious future plans of Kozume Kenma-kun?"

"Kuro," he sighed. He wanted to roll his eyes but lacked the drive. "Saying it like that is creepy."

"What's wrong with it? I happen to like your names. If I had to pick another last name, Kozume would be my top choice."

Kenma's face scrunched in disgust.

He made it sound like they were getting married. Why was he so weird?

"Come on, Kozume Tetsurou has a respectable ring to it." Kuroo grinned, brushing their shoulders together. Heat crept up Kenma's face, warm and scratchy. It had to be embarrassment, from having an obnoxious friend. "Your parents would totally adopt me."

A lump formed in his throat.

Oh.

That was what Kuroo meant by getting a different last name.

"In your dreams," he shot back quietly.

He felt his insides shift several times, like choppy waves rolling side to side in a storm. He wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe it wasn't just embarrassment. All Kenma knew was that the longer they talked about the future, the more he felt unsettled. Stirred up.

"Maybe it _is_ part of my dream."

Kenma sighed.

That was too honest. He could hear the longing behind the joke from a mile away.

He didn't doubt it. Kuroo being thrilled to join their family, if only to distance himself from his biological one. If it had made any sense to go through the paperwork and fight the legal battles, his parents might have agreed. They doted on Kuroo like a son already.

Even though Kuroo seemed content right now, he didn't want to get back on that topic. Not when he'd worked hard to cheer him back up. Literally exhausted himself, body and soul. Not for the first time, Kenma wondered why the universe had sent him someone like Kuroo. They weren't opposites, but in some ways, their energies were worlds apart.

He'd change course and see if it stuck.

"I don't want to do anything boring. For work, later. Don't have any specific plans though."

Kuroo snickered, sending relief shooting through him.

Things were simpler like this. The two of them sitting together, not stressing about the future, or about how the years might change them. He knew that someday, both of them would have to figure out a plan. A career, bigger goals, how they wanted to spend their life. And maybe, their plans would take them down different roads. He hoped not.

"So modest, Kenma."

Even if he didn't know what he wanted out of the future, it was hard to imagine his life without Kuroo. He just fit there. 

**. . . . .**

"Concentrate."

Kenma shot a look across the few feet of grass betwen them. It was a Sunday evening, and because he was a hardcore _End Fantasia_ fan, he was running passing drills in the park with his best friend. The newest release in the series was coming out via a midnight party in one week. Kuroo had offered to stand in line with him. But he hadn't given out his assistance for free.

Though, it could have been diving receive drills.

Slanting his gaze toward Kuroo appraisingly, Kenma assessed his clothes.

The jogger pants were new. Kuroo wouldn't want to get a bunch of grass stains on them.

No diving drills, then. His knees were safe.

"I'm trying."

He lofted the volleyball back into the air, sending it toward Kuroo's outstretched hands. The goal of the exercise was to keep the ball afloat the entire time without stopping. Kenma had messed that up around seven times already in the hour they'd been outside.

But he couldn't help it.

He wasn't able to concentrate, knowing he had to be honest. Time was running out. Soon, they wouldn't be at the same school anymore. That was the perfect time to tell Kuroo, so that he could begin to get used to the idea that they also wouldn't be on a team together forever.

Kenma huffed, meeting the return arc of the ball with a slap. Once more, it sped back in the other direction.

"Hey, is there something you want to ask me, Kenma?"

Anxiety coiled within his heart.

What he was stewing on wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. He wasn't asking Kuroo to be okay with it. He was hoping he would be, and that it wouldn't change their friendship. In a way, that was asking for something, but Kenma didn't plan on elaborating that far.

If they drifted apart without this connection, it would sting.

But he would try not to care too much. And he wouldn't pressure Kuroo to stick around. He could imagine nothing lamer than taking advantage of his best friend's kind nature - guilt tripping him into maintaining what they had.

He would say nothing.

It would be hard to find out that in the end, he wasn't someone worth the effort of dragging through life when he had nothing to offer in return. Playing volleyball gave him some small purpose in Kuroo's day to day existence. Kenma knew that. 

He just wished there was more to them than that, so he wouldn't have to question their bond.

"Why do you think I want to ask you something?" 

Kuroo peered at him suspiciously.

"You're making that face."

"I can't see the face I'm making, Kuro."

A sigh echoed before it was swept away by a gust of wind speeding down the length of the park, stirring the grass and creating ripples on the river running through it. Kenma shivered, instantly regretting not piling on the second hoodie he had debated on wearing outside.

"You keep staring at me and frowning."

Kenma's eyes narrowed.

"Hard not to do when you're spiking a ball that I don't want to catch with my face," he responded sharply.

"No," Kuroo cut in, lips pursing as he mulled over an explanation. "I mean, like, your forehead and your nose are all scrunched up. In concentration. You do that before you ask something important. I assume, considering you hate making eye contact otherwise."

The ball floated back toward him in a perfect arc. He kept it moving.

Kenma did hate eye contact.

It was palatable with Kuroo versus with other people, but only because he was used to him after so many years. Even then, he tended to avoid staring people head on, or did so for just a few seconds before looking away.

"Are you sure _you_ don't want to ask me something?" he quipped, feeling frustration well up.

Kenma hated that it was this hard to spit out a simple sentence.

 _I'm quitting_.

If he was being honest, the reason now was the best time to tell Kuroo was that being at different schools would naturally create a gap between them. They would still live next door to each other, but being in two different places for most of the day would give them space. Space that, if Kuroo wanted, could grow wider over time.

Something in Kuroo's expression shifted. For a brief moment, his eyes widened, pupils dilating with panic. But he soon banished the tell, settling on a neutral stare. Kenma felt his pulse throb.

He had said that to deflect attention.

But was there something Kuroo did want to ask? What then? Why did he seem so nervous?

The next exchange of the ball between their hands was less than flawless. It bounced off Kuroo's wrist, and he had to shift to knock it back up again before it tumbled sideways towards the grass. Kenma watched him adjust, then shifted too, sinking into the new trajectory.

He wasn't sure if he should press the issue or not. Force Kuroo to say what he had to say first. He didn't know what would come out of Kuroo's mouth, and Kenma wasn't sure how that would impact his ability to speak up about what he had decided.

Maybe it was time to stop running away.

"Kuro, after high school, I'm done. With volleyball. If I go to university, I'm not going to play it."

For the second time, Kuroo stumbled. His outstretched hands smacked at the ball, sending it back over at a rapid speed. Before Kenma could process the fact that it was a bad idea to meet it head on, the ball connected with his fingertips, jolting them backward hard. Pain shot through his knuckles and down into his hand as the force of impact sunk in. He hissed, and let the ball drop.

His brain froze. Nearby, he heard Kuroo curse, and footsteps as he started to jog over.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Kenma. I didn't mean to-!"

"I'm. Fine."

The words were delivered through his teeth. His fingers throbbed, and ached when he tried to flex them. Kenma gave up trying, cupping that hand with the opposite one to hold them steady.

He reluctantly gazed up.

Kuroo's face was pale, and his features were pinched with worry. Worry that seemed incongruous to something as inane as his fingers getting jammed by a stray ball. Kenma watched him for a few seconds as the stinging in his joints persisted, analyzing the twitch of Kuroo's lips, like he was desperately trying not to open his mouth.

Was it that same question from earlier? Was it about him quitting?

Kenma's eyes met his.

He wanted to know what was on Kuroo's mind, on both counts. Even if they were topics he wouldn't enjoy exploring. For better or for worse, he was curious what could make Kuroo look so torn up over him. At least, Kenma assumed it had to do with him. Which didn't shed any light, but it did make him more determined to hear.

Kuroo moved closer. Tentatively, he reached out, hands hovering close to Kenma's.

For a moment, Kenma forgot to exhale.

And then Kuroo's hands covered his, and disentangled them to hold onto the injured one. He cupped it in between his larger palms, staring down the hand with that same mournful, strange expression for several long seconds. Then, ducking down, he closed the space, and pressed his lips to the tips of Kenma's fingers. He lingered there, the warmth of his skin searingly obvious as they stayed connected.

Breath left Kenma's lungs in a sharp punch.

"...What are you doing?"

Kuroo didn't answer him straightaway.

"It's because I want them to get better soon," he said, voice distant. "If I only have three more years of them setting to me, I want those whole three years."

Kenma's hand trembled.

"That's what you do for a cut, Kuro," he said quietly.

"So? I want to be sure it will heal."

The words were stubborn, muttered in a defensive way that felt raw to hear.

A blank and depthless confusion settled into Kenma's head. His eyes darted from his hand up to Kuroo's face, which was downcast, staring at nothing in particular. He still hadn't moved away. What was he thinking? Why was he being so strange? It was nothing. A minor accident that wasn't worth losing sleep over. As soon as tomorrow, his hands would be fine.

He didn't know how to respond. Didn't know how to treat Kuroo when he was being this way. He didn't know what Kuroo wanted out of this exchange, because he was smart enough to know the reality. A jammed finger was more of an annoyance than anything else. It hurt, but that was brief.

"Kenma."

His ears perked up. The same guarded tone was present as his name was said.

"Have you kissed anyone?"

Confusion melted away into surprise. Unbidden, Kenma's stomach began to tie into knots. It was a random question, but what was weirder was how serious Kuroo sounded asking it. Beyond that though, it was a question that he should be able to guess the answer to on his own.

Yet, Kuroo was asking.

He frowned.

"When would I have done that?" 

Kuroo's jaw clenched.

"I don't know. Maybe someone surprised you at school. People do things like that, and a lot of our classmates are having their first kisses now," he rattled off, sounding vaguely irritated.

The unease within Kenma intensified. He didn't know why Kuroo was upset, but what did come to mind was the truth. Or at least, the truth as he saw it. Memories of old surged back into Kenma's head, and he found himself replying without considering his words first.

"I've already had my first kiss. With you."

Kuroo released the grip he had on him, letting Kenma's hand fall away. His fingers curled tightly into a fist.

"That doesn't count."

Kenma grimaced. Of course he would say that.

"To me it does," he shot back. "Not everyone does it to be romantic, and it's not like you don't like me. It wasn't a dare either. It counts."

At that, Kuroo's head jerked up. His eyes fluttered in surprise.

"I.. I... of course, I like you," he mumbled, volume just breaking above a whisper. "We're friends."

For how long?

Kenma had to wonder. Now that Kuroo knew he was quitting volleyball in a few years, it felt like an hourglass had been set, sand falling down through the bottom until eventually, they'd run out of time where being friends made sense. 

His eyes flickered down, assessing his fingers. He flexed them, feeling a less painful ache pulse through the joints.

Three more years, Kuroo had said. That was where his concern had gone immediately.

It wasn't a direct answer, but it was an answer.

Kenma swallowed hard.

Reality hurt more than his fingers did. If the universe was kinder, maybe the reverse could have been true. Maybe he could have meant more.

"How about you?"

Again, his mouth moved quicker than his brain. Kenma flinched. 

What part of him wanted to know that?

He was being just as weird as Kuroo, if he looked at the situation objectively. What did it matter if Kuroo had kissed someone? That didn't mean anything in general, except maybe that he was growing up. It didn't have any impact on their situation. The two were unrelated.

"No."

Exhaling slowly, Kenma waited.

"I haven't. I think," Kuroo began, eyes narrowing in concentration. He seemed unsure if he wanted to continue, but pressed on. "I think I'm a one-person kind of guy. I don't really care about gaining experience. I just want to be with that person. If it isn't them, I can't be bothered to try to feel something for someone else."

The lump in Kenma's throat enlarged, making it difficult for him to take in air.

He pictured the worst case scenario. 

Kuroo living his life alone, never finding that perfect person to fit his too-specific agenda. Putting on a brave face to the world. Or he would find them, but they wouldn't reciprocate. Worry raked through Kenma's veins, and before long, the various sensations piled on, and he found his next words coming out thick, like he was on the verge of crying. He didn't think that he was, but part of him almost could. Which was probably an overreaction.

What Kuroo was saying was unrealistic.

Even if he felt that way now, as the years passed, as he evolved, he'd find a reason to change his mind.

"Kuro. You could get hurt that way," he scolded. "Maybe rethink it."

Strangely, his best friend shook his head.

"Thanks for the concern," Kuroo said. His expression lightened, the wrinkle in his brow smoothing out. "But I'm optimistic. Even if it takes a while, I have hope that things will work out."

He looked up from the grass for the first time in minutes.

As he did, another gust blew through the park, and Kenma's thoughts were disrupted as shivering wracked his body. He curled inward, wrapping his arms around his torso and cursing slightly. The weather had been unpredictable this week, swinging between lows and highs to the point where he had given up trying to know what to wear to face it. But his second hoodie was sounding more and more appetizing by the minute, or taking shelter in of one of their houses. Preferably his.

Maybe his injury could be good for something else after all. There wasn't much use continuing their drill if he was compromised.

"Here."

Before Kenma could protest, Kuroo was shucking off his jacket.

The warmth contained in the material was palpable as Kuroo draped it over his shoulders in that next moment, pulling the sides together to cover more of his shaking body. Kenma sunk into the heat, but as much as he appreciated the gesture, something about it made his stomach roil, the shifting deep inside it resurging as he stole that warmth that had so recently been Kuroo's.

"You can have it until we get home. Though, before we head out..." Kuroo said, fingers still pinching the ends of the jacket and holding them in place. "I wanted to ask you something else."

Kenma blinked.

There had been more than one question? Which was the one that had unsettled Kuroo so much?

"Fine," he conceded, trying to let his curiosity overrule his apprehension.

"Next year, when you're applying for high school exams," Kuroo's voice quivered, "Would you try for Nekoma too? I want you to go with me. If you want to go there, that is."

The wind rattled them again. Kenma took less notice of it, instead analyzing the shifting emotions on his friend's face. 

He was unable to focus on anything else.

"Why?"

Kuroo's grip tightened on the jacket.

"I like being with you, Kenma. If you go to a different school, we won't see as much of each other. It's bad enough we're a year apart. That's why I thought I'd ask now. To give me something to look forward to."

Their eyes met.

In Kuroo's gaze, he read pure and unrelenting sincerity.

The tension that had been building up for weeks inside him unknotted. Kenma didn't need to inquire further. He knew what Kuroo meant. That wasn't him asking him to join him to play on the team. It was a request for them to stick together, both on and off the court. A shattering blow to the hourglass ticking away the next three years of their lives. And he knew what his answer was.

He smiled weakly.

"Yeah. I'll go there. With you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, perhaps Kuroo's sappy face is not the only major inspiration. Chapter 318 definitely has a strong place in my heart that wound up giving this story life, at least for these first two chapters. I can't help but get sentimental about every single frame of 318, and yeah, it might show.
> 
> Next chapter, things will... escalate as we move into the Nekoma era, and Kenma's world expands to include more people. I am waiting impatiently to write a certain scene. Until then, I apologize for the way I am hurting Kuroo here. I can't promise he won't suffer more before this is done.


End file.
